Bed-Time Hero Poem by Ethan Moyer

And the bed-time hero,
Returns back to his mire.
Dear Abbey,
The children are all dead.
Ancient reminiscence.

The closet bay, babies
And ancient bearded elders
In the shire of the willows.
Ecstasy children,
Big breasted girlfriends,
The soft c***s and c***s
Of the love street happeners,
And the stars of our mothers.
Cobbled transcendence above all happening.
She shines like our wilting sun;
Stoned and buried in the sky.
The vast orange rays creeping through
The forest,
Making love to each and every people,
Giving each and every creature and every pure life,
Mad orgasms and golden aspirations.
Great orgies of cool leaves,
Rose petals, diamond rain drops,
Surrounding like windy seasons of the
The crystal earth, beneath her stream.
Anoint the earth,
She cries.
Anoint me, good lover.
Trials of lust.
Insanity.
Anoint your mother of
Creation.
Kiss me,
She moans,
In her devious smile.
And the bed-time hero shrugged,
Walks back through the stars.

Rebel star-light.
Outlaw.
One man, self seeker.
He’s a free man;
Dreamer.